Whatever it takes
by jibber59
Summary: No matter what, he knows the team will be there to help him. But the job is supposed to be the other way around. Rated T for some of the violence that is suggested more than described in any detail. My ongoing thanks to those who created the Leverage Universe (and residents thereof).
1. Chapter 1

Nate and Sophie were coming out hot. Something had tipped the mark, and haste was of the utmost importance at this point. They had everything they needed except out. Hardison had slowed the other elevators, but the rolling security codes on the computerized buildings system didn't want to let him stall them out completely. At least he could keep the one his team was in moving on an express route to freedom while the others stopped at most floors. Parker had already exited, courtesy of her harness, through the service elevator shaft and rear delivery exit, and he could hear her opening the rear door of Lucille 2.0.

"Everybody coming?"

"Looks like it. Nate and Sophie should be coming out the front any sec- yup. There they are" as he spotted them running to the van. "Eliot man, you out?"

"Go Hardision – get everybody clear of hear. Go to house 17 – DO NOT GO HOME". Eliot's voice shouted in their ears. He was running hard, and sounded more than a little intense.

"What are you talkin' about – where are you?"

"Behind the - Never mind. I'll find you – just go"

"Not leaving you beh-"

"Dammit Hardison, not a suggestion. GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE"

Nate jumped into the driver's seat. "You better know what you're doing Eliot." The van peeled out. They watched the mirrors for signs of a tail, and Hardison started running jamming equipment to make sure no one was monitoring them in any other way. They could still hear Eliot's hard breathing, then a grunt, followed by fight sounds. At first it sounded ok – Eliot with his standard style, telling his challengers to bring it on. It only took a moment to realize that it wasn't going well. The earbuds were picking up enough sound for them to realize he was seriously outnumbered. Nate considered turning back, although he had no idea of where to go. Then the gunshot echoed through the earbuds. A moment later, the signal went dead.

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It had been 9 days since they heard the shot. There had been nothing since. After a couple of days of monitoring the home base, Nate was convinced no one was watching for them, and the team settled back in. But the search for their friend had failed. No matter what Hardison tried, he could find no trace, no signal, no trail. He had tagged every hospital, doctor, clinic and pharmacy in a 500 mile radius anyone with even a faint resemblance to Eliot coming in. He hadn't told the team, but he had done the same for the morgues. He was pretty sure the others had guessed that even though no one would put words to the possibility.

He had found some security video of the attack on Eliot, and immediately wished he'd failed on that effort. They had been right. Eliot was wickedly outnumbered, but he still managed to get 5 of the guys down before a shot from behind had dropped him to the ground. He'd never seen it coming. He was dragged out. These guys were hired goons, not security from their last job. Whatever it was about, it had nothing to do with that con. Hardison had been able to track the van at first but it was soon lost in the maze of traffic and the thinning out of traffic cameras. And now he sat at the keyboard, punching in everything he could think of for a lead.

He could feel Parker's breath on his neck before she put a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry darlin'. Nothing new to report".

"I know – you would have been jumping up and down if you even thought you had found something. I brought you another soda." She crawled up on the desk. "He's not dead you know. I'd know if he was dead, and he's not. He wouldn't do that to me – to us."

"Not really up to him-"

"Of course it is – he's Eliot. He won't quit on us. We can't quit on him."

"Nobody's quitting on anyone Parker" Nate walked into the office. "But I am running out of sources. I have talked to everyone from Quinn to Mikel Dayan to Vance. Even Sterling is keeping an ear open for anything. Nobody has a location. Nobody has a clue what to do next. They're looking. We're looking. Eliot has vanished – completely. There are lots of theories; rumors that amount to nothing. I've seen couple of reports of his death that clearly were false based just on the timing, but no solid info on where he is, or who has him. "

"Moreau's people have him."

"Not according to the Italian."

"She thought Moreau in prison was going to stop him. What does she know?"

Nate was inclined to agree. The Italian didn't **think** it was Moreau, but she wasn't ready to say anything absolute. Whatever she knew, she wasn't sharing. Not that he'd expected her to. But it didn't feel like Moreau. For one thing, he hadn't really had the time to rebuild his force to this degree, especially while still locked up. And there was a certain gloat aspect missing from the whole thing. When Moreau came after them, and they fully expected one day he would, Eliot would be the last victim, not the first.

He shuffled around folders on his desk. There were jobs waiting, things that had been planned before any of this went down. He knew he should look at them, pick something to get everyone back on track. People needed their help. But Eliot needed their help. The difference was, he could do something about the clients. At this point, he could do nothing for the man who regularly saved their lives.

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A black sedan slowed to a stop at the crest of a hill that sloped down to the river bank. The current ran fast and rough below.

"This 'ill do"

"Boss said to drive further outta the city."

"Yeah – well I don't plan on driving around town with a body in the back seat any longer than I have to. Dump it here. He'll roll into the river just as easily now as 20 miles from now, and we'll get home in time for the face-off. I got 2 grand on the game."

The door opened silently and the body was unceremoniously tossed out and kicked down the hill. "So long Spencer."

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He could hear the car drive off at the same time he could feel himself rolling closer to the water. Every bump, every rock sent another spear of agony through him, but he fought with all he had to move past that. He had to stop before hitting the river. He couldn't let his jacket get wet, but he had no strength to stop. If he got wet it really was over. He willed himself to stop rolling, to try to dig into the hillside. He felt he was slowing, but it wasn't fast enough. At the moment his legs hit the water he was jarred painfully to a halt. He forced his eyes open and found himself staring at the couple of rusted out bike frames he had slammed into. Thank god for litter he thought. Now for the hard part. Slowly, brutally so, he tried to move his arms. His shoulders had been dislocated every time he was suspended while being pummeled, and were set back in place to give his abductor the sheer pleasure of dislocating them again. He wasn't sure he could even move them now, but he had to. The broken fingers and mangled hands weren't going to make it any easier. Torture 101 - best way to make sure somebody couldn't even try to hit you back was to crush bones. Eventually, he worked his hand to the hem of his jacket and pried at the stitching till he broke through. He didn't know whether he had gotten used to the misery, or whether the nerves had lost the ability to send signals, but he was finding there was far less pain than he expected. Forcing the muscles to work when there was no reason they should he almost shouted for joy when fingers made contact with the plastic bud. Now, if he could get it to his ear and activate it, he was set. He felt the chill climbing his legs into his spine. He knew he should get his legs out of the water, but that wasn't where he needed to focus his rapidly dwindling energy. He tried to use his right hand to drag the left to his head, but his fingers wouldn't grip onto the fabric. Gradually he worked the hand under his elbow, knowing the movement was going to be brutal, and he was right. If there had been anything left in his system, he would have thrown up, but he was so hollow he was genuinely concerned what he might bring up. Excruciating minutes (that felt like hours) later the effort was finally worth it. He could feel the earpiece slide into place. A final prayer: please God, let it still work, and let them still be listening.

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Sophie sighed. "We can look at the files, but really Nate, do you think we have it in us to pull a game right now. We're exhausted, drained. I think it would take all of 5 minutes till we get blown."

"Look – I get it. I don't know if we can be – us – again. We can't sit around here just waiting for news. We can't do anything more than the searches that are going on. I do know that Eliot would not want us to fold our tents and go home. Like he said – this gets under your skin, and you gotta do something if you can. So, let's find one that Eliot would want. Something he would kick ass for."

"He'd kick ass for us" Parker said. "Who will do that now?"

"If we need someone we can call Quinn."

"NO! He's looking for Eliot. That's his only job now."

"OK Parker, we'll find a job that doesn't need a hitter for now. Something quiet. Something-"

"Holy mother of God" Hardison gasped, staring has his monitor. They looked at him questioningly. Without speaking, he tapped a few keys and the monitor image went on the screen. Eliot's backup transmitter was flashing as active.

Parker ran for the door, before realizing she had no idea where she was going. "Where – where – WHERE!"

A few seconds later the map showed co-ordinates. When she turned back Nate was blocking the door, holding up his hand for silence. "This could be a set up. Hardison, what's there – where is he?"

"River, rocks and not much else. Outskirts of town, but not by much."

Nate had put in his earbud, and activated it. "Eliot – can you hear me, can you talk?"

A faint weak breathing was the only response. "He can't talk Nate – we have to go." Sophie had moved to the door as well, and was ready to throw Nate away out of the way with bare her hands if he didn't move in the next 5 seconds.

"Eliot – you need to say something – anything."

It was a whisper they could barely hear. "Where's the Cavalry?"

Nate had never run so quickly in his life. He almost left without the others.


	2. Chapter 2

The headlights were pointed down the hill while the team desperately scanned the area with flashlights. "Eliot, help us man, we can't find you. Make a sound – rustle something." The ensuing silence was broken again by Hardison. "Dammit Spencer – where are you".

Sophie and Parker spotted the ripples in the water at the same time, but the blond thief was much faster at getting to the source. "Sparky! We got you Spark- Oh God".

Nate didn't know what she was seeing, but the reaction was enough for him to warn her off. "Don't touch him Parker. We're right behind you. Hardison find something for a stretcher and bring blankets." He stopped talking when his light hit Eliot.

The hitter was curled on his side, half in the water and shivering uncontrollably. If Nate hadn't known who it was, he wasn't sure he ever would have recognized him. His eyes were all but swollen shut. His face was one giant bruise, swollen and split open in a half dozen places, covered with blood. Clumps of hair were missing, and the scalp scarred where they had been pulled from.

"Damn, damn, damn, DAMN." Hardison had arrived, with a panel from floor board in Lucille to carry his friend. "How do we touch him – how do we move him?"

"Very carefully."

They surrounded him as much as possible, saying his name over and over hoping he understood they were trying to help. There were no shrieks, no gasps from the broken man as they moved him from the water and tried to wrap him in blankets. Once, when Sophie shifted his leg there may have been a small whimper, but none of them would even swear they had heard that. There was nowhere they could touch that wasn't hurt.

"What's the nearest hospital" Parker asked as they closed the van door.

"No – back home. We can't risk a hospital."

"Are you out of your mind?" Sophie glared at Nate. "Look at him."

"They dumped him. They think he's dead. You think whoever did this won't figure out he's alive the minute word is out of a badly beaten man found by the River. We'll get him help. We'll get him whatever he needs, but we're taking him home."

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"Quinn is sending someone we can trust. In the meantime we keep him warm and try to hydrate him".

They had settled him into his room at the office, and started trying to help. Cutting of the wet clothing had stopped them in their tracks again. Eliot's chest was red and inflamed, marked with scabs and burns. His arms were bruised, cut and raw. Nate went to the closet Eliot kept stocked with supplies to patch up the team. There was enough in there to stock a small medical centre. He wondered if there was enough for Eliot's injuries, knowing there was nothing there for the other damage that had been done to him in the past 9 days. Now was the time to treat what they could. He brought out more blankets, an IV, and sterile wipes. "Put the heating pad on his back, near the kidneys. It will help warm his blood faster." His shivering was still dangerous, though it had eased a bit since they found him. His body temperature had dropped to below 90 by the time they got him in the van, but was slowly climbing. They turned him slowly to warm his back, and saw the welts. Parker became almost as pale as Eliot had become and Sophie started using language completely inappropriate for a lady, but totally fitting the situation. Over their objections, Nate banished all of them from the room. "Do you really think he wants you to see him like this?"

He reached for Eliot's hand to insert the IV, and pulled back. They were shattered. He couldn't bring himself to probe for a vein. Gently he searched along the arm, trying to find somewhere he could use for the injections. He found a spot, but was reluctant to cause anymore injury, even something this small. He shook his head, coming to his senses. This was not going to even register with the younger man, and he quickly set up the IV to try to get some fluids into him. Then he began to gently clean him up, wiping the dried blood from his face and neck. He fought the desire to fix Eliot's hair, knowing it was probably a bad idea to get near any possible head injuries. He did brush some stray strands away from his eyes. "Stay with me Eliot. We're going to get you through this. Stay with us."

He wasn't sure how much time had passed. He didn't hear the door to the apartment, let alone to the room, when a hand on his shoulder gently moved him away. "Quinn sent me. I got this. Go sit with your friends."

Nate looked up at the Doctor, and was surprised to see him looking at Eliot as if he'd seen a ghost. Was his condition that bad? "Not going anywhere. I don't know you and I am not 100% sold on Quinn. I'm staying."

"Suit yourself – but I sure as hell hope you have a strong stomach."

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Five hours later Eliot's body had warmed to almost 95 degrees. He had been cleaned, stitched and wrapped. The bullet entry wound had been dressed, but going after the bullet itself was not a consideration. The injury had partially healed, and the projectile itself was no threat at this point. Removal surgery would be a trauma his body didn't need right now. Bones were set and splints or pressure casts applied as appropriate. There was scarcely an inch that didn't have salve, cream, ointment or bandages on it. Creams coated electrical burns. Ointments and bandages coated the welts from flogging that crisscrossed his back. Antibacterial lotions had been worked into dozens of cuts on his arms, legs and – other places. Nate had long since stopped mentally cataloguing was had been done to the young man. He tried to block out what each injury must have meant – most have cost. He had left the room twice, both times for more supplies. He had wanted to go puke his guts out each time, but forced himself back to Eliot's side. He had no idea if the Hitter knew he was there, but if there was even a chance, he had to stay close. There had been some gasps and moans, but little reaction to most of the work being done. Even the setting of bones had elicited little more than whimpers. Nate wanted to hear a shout, a scream – something to show Eliot was still in there and fighting. He had dropped his mistrust of the Doctor fairly quickly. There was an aura about him that reassured Nate that Eliot was in more that capable hands. He looked up to realize the work was done. The blankets were pulled up to cover Eliot as much as possible, and pillows had been propped around him for support of the injured limbs.

"Come outside – I have to talk to all of you."

A few minutes later the team sat around the desk, watching the doctor, with focus split for any sound from the room down the hall. Quinn had arrived at some point, and sat quietly in a far corner, part of the activity, but not of the family. He was just here to find out what had happened, so he could figure out who he was going to be killing.

"Your friend should be dead. I have no idea why he isn't. He has lost a ridiculous amount of blood. If he'd been any more dehydrated he'd have dust in his veins. He's been starved. He's been cut, stabbed, burned, shocked, beaten and shot. But he's alive - somehow. Given the hypothermia, his heart rate and BP are surprisingly steady. His breathing his rough, but that's due in part to the busted ribs. You'll need to watch carefully for pneumonia."

H looked at their faces. The young blonde was leaning heavily against the guy who had let him in. Hardison – that was it. He looked pretty numb. Sonia – no Sophie - had quiet tears running down her cheeks. Nate. Well, he'd seen all of this, so it wasn't the same shock. He'd toughed it out much better that expected, never losing it once through all the treatment. But the Doctor knew that look. There was a bottle of whiskey in that man's none too distant future.

"There needs to be someone with him 24/7 until – well until he gets past this. I have no idea how long that will take. Physically, given that he survived this far, he should be able to recover, with a lot of work." The release of sighs from the table was almost a gale force wind. He hated like hell he was about to shatter their hope. "Mentally, emotionally…another story. This much, in such intensity, so quickly. I don't know if any psyche could survive that. The nature of what they did, the pure viciousness of it. He was tortured for someone's pleasure and entertainment. He doesn't even have the emotional safety valve of knowing what he went through saved someone. I'm betting they never asked him anything."

Nate stood and just barely made it to the sink before retching. He had surmised all of that watching Eliot get treated, but hearing it, registering it as fact, was too much.

"I'm going to clean up in there and double check everything before you go in. One at a time. You can talk to him, quietly. Just make sure he knows he's not alone, and that it is safe for him to come back. From what Quinn told me, he used everything he had to get back to you. If anyone can get him though this it'll be you four."

He came out of Eliot's room about 15 minutes later. None of them had moved. "I'll call in a couple of hours and be back tomorrow. My number is by the phone if you need me." He paused a moment, and decided they needed to hear something. "Seven years ago I was with Doctors without Borders. We were in a small town about 6 miles past the end of civilization. Someone got the idea we were collaborating with the enemy – whoever the hell it was that week. During the night a raiding party came in – or tried to. They killed one of our sentries. Then a whirlwind attacked. Took out 9 terrorists in what couldn't have been more than 60 seconds. Didn't fire a shot. If I hadn't seen the bodies, I wouldn't have believed it. He came into the main tent to on his clean-up sweep, making sure there were no strays. He was bleeding, shrugged it off, grabbed a compression bandage and started to walk away. He was on his way out when a kid came running up to him and grabbed him around the legs, hugging him till he fell over. I was scared to death what this force would do to the child out of sheer momentum. He reached out, tousled hair, grinned at him and started talking. Trying to convince the kid that he wasn't Superman. It gave me a couple of minutes to patch up the arm. He glared at me, but I guess he didn't want to scare the kid, so let it go. A few minutes later he put the boy back in bed and walked out of the village. Never looked back. Over the next week there were 4 similar attacks stopped – crushed – in the area. After that, well let's just say we weren't bothered by raiding parties again. Nobody knew who the guy was, but one of the camps said he told them he was the Cavalry." He looked towards Eliot's room. "Personally, I think the kid was right – it was Superman."


	3. Chapter 3

Parker brushed the hair from Eliot's forehead as she rinsed his face with a cool cloth. A couple of days ago they couldn't warm him up, now they couldn't cool him down. The Doctor had said it wasn't pneumonia, just a routine low grade infection from all of the injuries, and the antibiotic would settle him down in a day or two, but Parker still didn't think it was fair. As she tucked the stray lock of hair behind his ear, she noted with some delight that his hair was already showing signs of growing back in the injured areas. "It will take a while Sparky, but it will all grow back in." She knew he'd be pleased to hear that. Eliot wasn't vain, but he wasn't stupid either. He knew he was a seriously good looking man, and the hair was definitely part of "the look". It was nice to think of something being normal again.

"Call him Eliot, not Sparky. He needs to hear his name." Hardison was watching from the door, leaning against the frame with an air of utter exhaustion emanating from him.

"I know that Hardison. But Sparky is better. It says energy and life and…"

"Yeah – I know. All the things that aren't real anymore." Hardison turned and left the room again.

"Don't listen to him Sparky. He's just tired. We all are. It would really help if you could wake up though. Do you think you could do that for us?"

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Nate had cleared everything off his desk. There was no point in even pretending anything was normal. For now, there were no cases, no clients. He'd consulted with a few folks, made a few anonymous calls to the cops, the FBI or any other group he thought might help, but beyond that, Leverage Inc. was closed for business indefinitely. Maybe permanently.

The phone interrupted his thoughts. He almost passed, but after looking at the caller ID accepted the call. "What have you got Quinn?" "Everything's done."

"How did…"

"Once I knew what was done, I knew who it was. Doc was right. Guy named Torello - a royally sadistic bastard. Eliot put him down once, years ago, but I guess it wasn't hard enough. He regrouped, got rich, and decided to get even. I called in a few favours. This guy's not coming back again. Tell Eliot that – it might help. Call if you need me." The call ended. Nate flipped on the TV in time to catch the breaking news update, of a police raid on a warehouse where 11 men were found hog tied, and more than a little the worse for wear, but all breathing. There was enough evidence on the sight to arrest them all on drug, weapons and human trafficking charges. None of them would ever see the outside world again. The ring leader had not been arrested. According to the reporter, it was believed rival drug gangs had taken him. Police were searching for a body. Nate was fairly sure they would never find one, although a few parts may show up from time to time.

His head knew this was the ideal solution – the only solution – but he was angry. He wanted to stare the bastard down himself. He wanted to be the one to do to him even a little of what he had done to Eliot. He knew how Eliot would feel about that, and didn't care right now. He wanted it so badly it scared him. He walked over to the bar and poured a whiskey. Then he could hear Eliot's voice from longa ago in his head. "_YOU quit Drinking. You?__And you moved in above a bar.__That's very…Catholic_." He put the glass down. He'd drink when he could drink with his friend.

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Last night had been quiet. Eliot finally seemed to be sleeping better, with no fevers or tremors. He was still most of the time, possibly because all of the injuries were keeping him mostly immobile. It all looked normal, if you ignored the fact he hadn't been awake once in the last 8 days. Two and half weeks had passed since that day and there had been only the three words that convinced them Eliot needed them. That was why Nate damn near dropped his coffee when he walked into the room and heard the rough voice. "Shhh. Sophie's asleep. Looks like she needs it."

"Yeah – you're not exactly photogenic yourself right now."

Somehow Eliot had hitched himself up on the pillows, and was reclining with his head raised. Nate had a feeling that had been a strenuous exercise, since there was a thin sheen of sweat covering the younger man's forehead. The discussion had roused Sophie, and she was staring, and smile spreading over her face. Nate was glad to see that – he was a little afraid he'd been hallucinating. "I'll let the others know" she leapt to her feet to leave.

"Slowly Sophie, take your time. Give me a couple of minutes with him." She nodded, beamed back at Eliot and headed to spread the news.

"Could you…"? Eliot coughed lightly, and groaned at the effect it had on him. Nate jumped forward then stopped, not really knowing what to do. Eliot looked at the water bottle and Nate started to hand it to him, then remembered the casts. He held the water to Eliot's lips, and tried not to look him in the eye.

"It's OK Nate." Eliot's voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm going to get through this. I can deal with anything but pity. Don't do that to me Nate. Make sure you tell the others."

"Absolutely. You tell us what you need. We'll get through it together. " He paused a moment. "Quinn and some friends have handled the problem – permanently. Does that help?"

"Not yet – but it will." Despite his words, Eliot could feel a bit of tension release with the news. "So how bad am I busted up?"

"Nothing that won't heal."

"You sure? Cause it hurts like a sonofabitch right now."

"Yeah – doc wasn't sure what a strong pain medication would do—what affect it might..."

"S'OK Nate. I get it. Not my first rodeo. I'm gonna try to sleep some." His speech was already slurring with fatigue.

"Sparky? You really back?" The blonde head poked around the door.

"You bet darlin'. We'll talk later. I gotta sleep."

"Can I stay with you? I won't poke – I promise." He nodded slowly, falling asleep, and she slid into the chair Sophie had vacated, curling up and grinning uncontrollably.

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A couple of days later the Doctor took the IVs out, gave them a long list of dos and don'ts, and announced he wouldn't be back again unless they called him in. He gave a half smile to Eliot. "Have you figured out where you know me from?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Nate told me your story, but clearly you have me confused with someone else."

"OK – if you say so."

"Stories like that can seriously damage a guy's kickass reputation. Putting little kids to bed – seriously?"

"If you say so. Take time to heal Mr. Spencer. You were a lot of hurt, and this isn't going to be fast or easy – even for someone like you. Oh - and if at all possible, try to not punch anything for a while."

Eliot reached out. The casts prevented much contact, but he had to try. "Thanks, Doc."

"No problem – I owed you one."

A few days after that Eliot made his first public appearance. It took him at lot longer than he expected to walk from his room to the office. Every muscle was voicing objection to the effort. His legs felt like lead weights were attached, and his focus faded in and out around him. He dropped into a soft chair as soon as he could, trying with limited success to keep the strain off his face. "So – what are we working on?"

Four "are you serious" stares looked back at him. "Gee, we've been a little busy lately."

"OK – but nothing stopping you now. There were at least half a dozen jobs we'd listed that won't likely require any brute force, so for the next couple of weeks you can focus on those until I'm back."

"Couple of weeks?" Hardison stared at him with a 'what-you-talkin-'bout' look on his face. "I know you haven't been overly mobile, but have you looked in a mirror lately? In a couple of weeks you MIGHT be ready to go back into the kitchen. Ass-kicking is not in the short term plan."

"Once I get into the gym things will loosen up and I'll get back into shape –

"Point number 3 on the 'Don't' list – The Gym. You are not stepping foot in there for at least –"

"Nate, I'll be fine. I'm still in casts for God's sake. I just want to start stretching out. Maybe some Tai Chi to start to strengthen up again." He paused for a minute to try to control his breathing. They could hear the tightening in his voice; see the muscles in his jaw tensing. "You think I don't know that I can't fight anymore? That I'm not that guy now. You think I don't know my limitations? Fine; my limitations are that I can barely walk, have no sense of balance, can't take a deep breath, or do a basic kick. I can't feel my fingers or lift my left arm higher that my shoulder. In other words, pretty much useless, but thanks for the reminder." _Of course a rant like that is much more effective if you can slam out of the room Spencer,_ he thought to himself. _Now you just get to sit here and look stupid. Well done. _He closed his eyes, and leaned back, waiting for the inevitable lecture from Nate. All he heard though was a sigh. "Do what you have to do Eliot. Some things never change."

"I'm trying to change Nate. I'm trying to realize I have no choice. Ya gotta give me some time – some room. I'm gonna find a way to make this work again."

"That's the problem Eliot - **WE** need to find a way to make this work."


	4. Chapter 4

Within the month what passed for normal at Leverage started to return. Nate, Sophie and even Hardison found jobs for the team, and ways to manage them without having an active hitter on the team. There had been a few small skirmishes getting out of spots, but Eliot had long ago given them enough of basic training to get them through. Through it all, Eliot was becoming fairly adept at the research end of things, and Hardison had set up a voice recognition program for him so that a minimal amount of typing was needed. His hands were healing, and while he could move his fingers, there was no real feeling there. He'd burned a couple on a frying pan last week, not registering the heat until it was too late, but it wasn't bad enough that the team had noticed. And he was back to coaching them whenever there was time in the small workout gym they had built down the hall from the office. Sophie really didn't care for the sessions, but it was one of the few times Eliot seemed to relax, and they could see a little of the Hitter's personality coming through. It was the only time Parker called him Sparky anymore. What wasn't normal was the quiet; the bantering, the bickering had been missing. He hadn't talked to them about what happened, not that they were really expecting him to. But he hadn't really talked too much with them at all since his outburst that first day. He had begged off on dinner most every night, claiming fatigue and lack of appetite. They knew that part to be true; he wasn't sleeping or eating well. Cooking, yes. Eating, no. So when Eliot announced that he was ready to get out of the office and go back home again, they were torn between the desire to respect his choices and their ongoing concern for his welfare. "Stay until Friday" Nate suggested. "We'll help you get resettled on the weekend."

"Sure. See you in the morning".

Parker sprang up in front of him. "Can you talk me through that flip again tomorrow? I can't nail the landing after I toss someone over my shoulder."

"That's because YOU aren't supposed to be landing. Your feet stay on the floor, the other guy goes flying."

"But it's more fun if I fly too! Watch!"

Parker leapt from her spot to the table, then over to the counter. What she hadn't prepared herself for was the still damp surface from cleaning up, and she slid from the counter to the floor with a curse and a sharp cry as she hit her elbow. None of them were prepared for Eliot's response.

He charged to her shouting her name. "Parker no – NO, are you OK, what did he do, what happened. Talk to me" He was trying to pick her up and couldn't. Hyperventilating, he began to gasp for breath and fell back. Nate and Hardison grabbed him and Sophie firmly to his face in her hands.

"Eliot relax, She's Fine Eliot. Breathe, Slow down, Just breathe." Without taking her eyes of him she spoke to Parker. "Can you get up? Come here, I can't get through to him. He needs to see you."

Parker stepped in front of Sophie. "Hey Sparky – I'm OK. Just a little bump. No big deal. I'm fine. Really. See, just look at me."

Eliot's eyes slowly came back into focus, and they could feel his muscles start to relax as they lowered him to the floor. He leaned against the counter. "I thought – I was sure –". He was still short of breath.

"I thought he was hurting you again. I had to stop him. It was so damn real." He stopped, unable to put anything else together.

"Torello. You thought Torello had her." Eliot looked away, unable to meet Nate's eye. "He told you he had her. " Nate could see the Eliot sinking further into himself, and knew there was more. "Wait - you thought he had US – all of us. Oh God, you thought he was doing to us what he had done… Why?"

Eliot swallowed hard a couple of times, trying to get enough saliva back in his mouth so he could speak, but he still couldn't get himself back under control. Nate handed him a glass of water, but most of is sloshed out because of the shaking. He quickly took the glass back, afraid Eliot's inability to control himself would result in his crushing it and Hardison handed him a water bottle instead. Eliot managed to swallow some, and was getting his breath back. Without looking directly at any of them, but keeping Parker in his line of sight, he started talking.

"I saw things in his office – things I thought he got from you. I was far enough gone at that point I didn't know he was messing with me. The only thing I could think was he had you – all of you. I figured you had tried to find me and…and he had you. And when I couldn't provide him with enough – entertainment – for the day, he went after you. I could hear your voices, your screams. I could hear everything and couldn't…I knew I'd failed all of you. I'm so sorry." They could barely hear him his voice had dropped so low. "I let you all.."

"You didn't let anyone down." Sophie ached for the pain the young man was in, tears quietly streaming down her cheeks. "Eliot, please don't do this to yourself. None of this is your fault. He never touched any of us. He never will."

"Quinn shouldn't 'ave killed him. That was our right" Hardison's voice was harder than any of them had ever heard. "He deserved everything he did put back on him. I wanted to hurt him. Still do. I need to hurt –"

"NO" Eliot pulled himself to his feet and grabbed onto Hardison's arms. "Don't even think about finishing that thought. Don't ever go there. You are so much better than that – better than him. Better than me. You don't go down that road, because you will not survive the trip." He reached a hand behind Hardison's neck and pulled him close. "You're better than that."

He turned to the others. "You can't ever think you could do that to someone. Don't imagine it, don't plot it, don't think it. You aren't like him – like me".

"Like you? Seriously Eliot, you cannot be putting yourself in with him?" Sophie shook her head. He started to answer her with things he didn't want to say when he saw Parker, staring at him. He could feel her eyes drilling into him. He was scaring her. Scaring Parker. You had to be pretty far of the charts to scare Parker. He had to calm down. "No Parker." He looked her in the eyes. "The worst…my worst moment. It wasn't like this. Please don't be afraid of me. I can't handle your being afraid of me. Sophie's right. I'm not Torello. At my worst – I wasn't him."

"Do you really think you need to tell us that? Oh Sparky! We KNOW that. Do you?" She hugged him until he thought his ribs would crack, and he didn't care.

Nate knew Eliot had to finish this story, for his own good. If they didn't keep him talking, he would shut down again, and getting the young man to open up a second time was not guaranteed. "If you thought he had us, why did you escape?

"I wasn't leaving you. I wouldn't have done that. You know I wouldn't have done that don't you?" The panic was still underlying in the young man's voice.

"Slow down Eliot – Breath."

"One of his guys screwed up. I heard him say something about the recorded voices. Digital loops or something. It all sounded very – Hardison. It took a while to process it, but it finally sunk in. They were faking me out. Gaslighting me. Sucks to be on the other end of that. But I knew I had to find you guys to be sure. I had to be sure. So I did the only thing I could think of. I died."

" 'Cuse me?" Hardison gasped.

"I knew they'd dump my body, along with anything linked to me. And that they probably hadn't looked for a spare earbud in the lining of the jacket. Not the brightest bunch. Lots of brawn – no brains. So I let myself die."

"Again – Excuse me?"

"Let him talk Hardison." Nate had noticed the narrative seemed to be calming Eliot down, as if purging him of some of the poison.

"There are ways of meditating, calming yourself to a point where anyone checking would not find the pulse, especially on somebody as busted up as I was."

"And slowing down your heart – as busted up as you were?" Sophie asked.

"Calculated risk."

"Yeah – I don't think I want to see those calculations."

Nate was pretty sure he knew the answer to his next question, but had to ask it anyway, for Eliot's sake. "So if you could do that, why didn't you do it earlier?"

"Like I said –calculated risk." Eliot knew what Nate wanted him to admit.

"Saving your own life wasn't sufficient motivation. You had to stay when you thought we were there, and then make sure we were safe. So you were will to let yourself basically die to protect us."

Eliot was pretty sure his standard "It's what I do" wouldn't go over well as a response here.

"Worked didn't it? They dumped me – you found me. All good."

Nate rubbed at his temples to try to ward of the tension headache that was quickly developing. "Seriously Eliot – 'all good'? What part of this was good? What part of this makes any sense to a rational human being? Why do you keep thinking that your death would be an acceptable loss?"

"Nate – it worked. And as a small bonus, I got to piss Torello off. He was very disappointed his fun was cut short. I really thought for a minute he was going to put a bullet in my head for sheer spite." He looked up at Sophie's gasp on that line. "Sorry – should have kept that to myself."

"No Eliot – you shouldn't be keeping any of this to yourself. When are you going to learn to talk to us? Why would you keep all of this trapped inside?"

He tried to frame his answer in a way she might understand, without freaking her out. "Do you remember what I told you at the gym in Nebraska? It's all about control. In here" – he tapped his chest as he had that day 4 years earlier, and then tapped his head "but I now get it's here too. And if I can't control what I am, I'm no good to anyone."

"What you are? So you still think you're just our Hitter- our muscle?" She shook her head, disappointed.

"I told you darlin'. It's who I am." He couldn't stop himself this time. "It's what I do." He cut them off before they could respond. "-but I'm working on it. That's the best I can offer right now."

Nate watched him for a moment, trying to decide if he meant that last part. "We'll take it – for now. Go get some sleep."

They watched him walk down the hall to his room. Sophie spoke quietly – "How do we get through to him?"

Eliot walked slowly toward his room. He brushed off their help, and they let him, knowing he needed to prove to himself, if not to them, that he could make it on his own. He was still shaking from the revelations and memories. He knew they could see it too, but as long as he could keep some control, they seemed willing to overlook it. He hurt from the physicality of the night, but it felt good. It felt, which was a step in the right direction was. Grabbing onto Parker, and then Hardison, his fingers hurt - ached actually. They were numb again now, but for a few moments he had started to feel hope. Maybe tomorrow could include a bit of time with the punching bag, if he could just be alone in there for a change.


	5. Chapter 5

Eliot didn't get back home that weekend. The team took a job out of town, and asked him to stay at the office to monitor the coms. That was pretty weak as stalls went, but it worked. The last thing they needed was to be worried about him while they should be focusing on the con, so Eliot agreed. He was not going to be the distraction that caused them any problems. He did break the rules though. They hadn't been gone 10 minutes before he was down in the gym. It was the first time alone he had been able to get there. Even when he was doing Tai Chi, or trying to work on meditations, someone was hovering nearby. In Parker's case, that was literal, as he often looked up to find her hanging from a ceiling harness. "You guys do get that mediation is a solo kind of thing – right?"

"Go right ahead Eliot – you won't disturb us."

But now, there was silence - solitude. He walked through the area, trying to get comfortable in the environment, slowly flexing his fingers and rubbing out the stiffness is his recently freed hands. He'd always been a quick healer, but the amount of damage he'd suffered had set his usual progressive routine back some. He'd been waiting for this chance, and he was ready now. He stopped in front of the light workout bag. He'd picked up the boxer's tape during his walk, and started carefully wrapping his hands. It was a slow process at the best of time to do this for yourself, and this was by no definition the best of times. Finally, he was ready. He held the bag for a moment to centre it, and himself, then pulled back his arm.

"Touch that bag Eliot and there will be serious consequences"

Eliot jumped about 4 feet in the air and spun to look for the intruder. The TV monitor in the corner had sprung to life, and Hardison was staring down at him, shaking his head bemused, with just a tinge of disappointment. "Really, you didn't think we had figured out your first move when we left. Room is wired dude. Our phones started buzzing practically before we'd left the block. "

"Dammit Hardison – "

"Uh-uh – not this time. You know the deal. You ain't ready for that yet. You gotta give it time man."

"I know how I feel. I'm fine with this."

"You know how you want to feel. Come on Eliot. Be real. You start up too early and it is just gonna slow everything down in the long run."

"Fine." He hated admitting Hardison was right. "Just out of curiosity, what kind of serious consequences were you planning on delivering?" The silence made the Hitter smile. Hardison clearly hadn't thought that threat through. He lightly tapped the bag. "I'll be back" he said, as he switched of the light on his way out.

XXXXXXXXXXX

"Eliot, I'm not sure about this."

"For God's sake Nate, I'm a chauffeur. I drop Sophie off, wait around the corner and pick her up 20 minutes later. I don't really see that tasking my abilities at this point."

"You sitting still for 20 minutes is a big part of my concern."

The rest of the team had been watching this tennis match of an argument for a few minutes now, heads swiveling back and forth between the two men. Sophie was getting a headache.

"Nate, I think Eliot can judge for himself…"

"That's just it Sophie – he's not just judging for himself."

"What Nate – you think I can't figure out what you are really worried about? You think for second I would do this if I thought there was the slightest risk to anyone else. If I'm driving it leaves you three free to get Sophie out in a hurry if this goes south. I see this as giving her 3 healthy options, not one cripple."

Nate winced – "That's not what I meant…"

"Really? You've seen me in the gym trying to work out for the past month. The balance isn't coming back. The timing is gone. The strength is gone. I have no illusion that I can offer protection in the field. Hell, I'm still a liability. I get that."

The silence in the room was deafening. Hardison tried to recover, but couldn't quite find the words he wanted.

"Ah come on man – we don't – I mean, nobody thinks…"

"Dammit Hardison, don't patronize me."

Nate had found his voice again. "When all of this started a few months ago, you told me the one thing you couldn't handle was pity. I take it self-pity wasn't included in that?"

"You think that's what this is? This is self-awareness. Just because I'm a liability in the field doesn't put me off the team. You don't get rid of me that easily." He walked over to the Hardison and took the remote from his hand. The hacker was too surprised to react. A couple of clicks later a blueprint came up on the screen. "There are 4 ways out of the building – main door, back delivery entrance, parking garage entrance and the roof. Parker can be on the roof to help repel if needed. Hardison will be in back entrance to the lobby –there is a fire alarm there that can cause confusion, and if he can't get to that I can put in a 911 call from the car. Not quite as immediate, but it will do. Any of the routes should work then. Nate can be at the main entrance to create any additional diversions and I'll be at the garage exit with the car. Of course, all goes well Sophie just walks out the front as already laid out and I drive around to get her." He tossed the remote back to Hardison. He turned to look at their stunned faces. "More than one way to be a security expert. I'm learning to adapt." He glared for a few more seconds, but was finding it hard to keep a small smirk from slipping onto his face. It was fun to finally get a chance to put them all in their places after these past weeks of being lectured. They kept telling him he could still fit in, and now that he had proved it true, they were speechless, and he was enjoying every second of their discomfort.

Nate slowly started nodding. "OK – you set us up you son-of-a-bitch, but OK. You earned it." He tossed Eliot the keys, pleased to see him catch them. "Don't think for a second we are going to let you stop your physical therapy."

Two hours later Eliot was anxiously tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He would never admit it out loud, but Nate had been right. The waiting – even for 20 minutes – was killing him. So far, everything was fine, but being next to the action, and not in the middle of it, was not what he was used to. Finally, Sophie gave the tip off to the team that she was on her way down, payout in hand. Before the elevator opened in the lobby, Nate's voice came over the coms.

"Security is at the elevator, and they don't look happy. Something is going on – everybody on alert. "

"Want the alarm pulled?"

"Let's see how this plays – be ready for it."

As the elevator doors opened and she stepped out, one of the guards moved in and took her by the elbow. "You'll be coming with us."

"NOW HARDISON".

The alarm was sounded before the command was finished. Everyone who had been coming or going in the lobby headed for the exits and in the jostling Sophie was able to pull herself free. She turned for the back entrance, judging there were too many guards between her and the front. Nate and Hardison were causing as much confusion as possible in the lobby, tripping or blocking anyone in a security jacket.

The car was running at the back as Sophie came out and was headed straight to the passenger seat when a guard appeared from the alley way blocking her path. He had no idea what hit him as a hand smoothly pulled him back and threw him against the wall. The second guard saw Eliot's fist coming at him in time to duck and counterpunch, but was blocked and went down from a hit to the solar plexus that would have stopped a truck. Eliot was back in the driver's seat long before the injured parties were able to stand up, and the dust the wheels had kicked up was flying in the air as the limo left the alley. Sophie sat open mouthed, staring at Eliot. The car skidded to a stop out front to pick up Nate. Parker was back at ground level meeting Hardison at the van, and they were all away less than a minute after the alarm had been sounded.

Nate looked to the front seat to check on Sophie, concerned by the look on her face. "You hurt – you hit?"

"I'm OK – I think Eliot may have bruised his knuckles"

He looked over to see the hitter flexing the fingers on his right hand.

"What the hell…"

"Believe me Nate – I have no idea what happened. It just – happened. The guy went to grab Sophie and I was on autopilot. I would have bet everything I own I couldn't do what I just did. God knows I can't do it in the gym."

"Wait" – Hardison's voice came through the coms. "Eliot gave someone a whooping and we missed it? Well that ain't fair."

Nate tried to sound angry, but couldn't keep the grin on his face from coming through in his voice. "When we get back to the office we are going to have a little chat about this Eliot."

"Whatever you say dad". Eliot didn't much care what any of them were saying right now. For all of his bravado, all of his trying to adjust, this was first time in months he felt like himself and saw a future that didn't scare him, and nothing was going to take this moment away.


End file.
